


the lies

by Jelly



Series: what we say (and what we don't) [1]
Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, THROUGH THE MOON SPOILERS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:20:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26371090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jelly/pseuds/Jelly
Summary: The truth sits in her mouth like salt.[**Spoilers for Through the Moon. Proceed with caution**]
Relationships: Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince)
Series: what we say (and what we don't) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1926241
Comments: 25
Kudos: 119





	the lies

**Author's Note:**

> **SPOILERS FOR THROUGH THE MOON. PROCEED WITH CAUTION.**

_the lies_

  
  


i.

The first time, it’s because he doesn’t trust her. Why should he? Rayla had broken into his castle to murder his father and brother, and he’s human and she’s an elf. They’ve spent centuries at war with each other, and she’s given them no reason to trust her aside from the fact that she hasn’t gotten them killed. She wouldn’t trust her either.

They’ve made camp by the riverside and the moon is high. Ezran and his pet frog passed out about an hour ago, but Callum studies her when he thinks she isn’t looking and pokes awkwardly at the fire. Rayla tries to ignore the way his eyes seem to see right through her but her wrist tingles around the binding on her left hand and the lie feels heavy in her chest.

“So it doesn’t mean anything?” 

Rayla breathes in. It’s too sharp. Too sudden. Too obviously on edge to mean nothing. “No,” she says levelly. “I told you. It’s just decorative.”

“Oh.” Callum pauses and fiddles with the strap of his sketchbook. “I dunno. You just seem like… you want it off.”

Rayla glances away. He’s an artist, she thinks. She’s seen the drawings in his sketchbook in passing and his attention to detail is noteworthy in and of itself. Of course he would notice the way she fidgets. The way she tugs at it when she thinks he’s preoccupied with something else. The way she stays up later than they do trying to loosen it as it grows tighter around her wrist.

Ezran shifts in his sleep. His breathing is even. Steady. 

The binding shrinks a little more.

“Nervous habit, I guess,” she mutters at last, drawing her knees to her chest. “It’s nothing.”

(It’s not.)

ii.

The second time, it’s because his father is dead. It’s been true for days now, but the longer they’re friends, the harder it is to tell him. At its shallowest, it’s because Rayla doesn’t want to hurt him, but deeper down, it’s because she doesn’t want him to hate her.

There’s something in her chest when he looks at her. It makes her cheeks feel warm and her heart race, and she knows what it is, she thinks, but if she denies it hard enough, maybe it won’t be true. They’ve only known each other a couple of weeks by now but there’s a kindness in him that’s endearing, and a light in his eyes that might make lesser girls swoon. 

He’s writing a letter when she finds him. He’s smiling a little as his graphite scratches across the page, and she smirks a little at the way he describes her—kind and good; fearless, fast, and strong—“and daring,” she jokes, grinning a little at the way he jumps. “Oh so daring.”

“Hey!” He makes a face at her. “Have you just been standing there the whole time?”

“Don’t let me interrupt,” she says. “You were looking for another good word to describe me, right? Well, I consider myself quite daring.”

Callum raises an eyebrow at her. Rayla might have called it cute, if she was brave enough to admit it, but she’s not, and she settles for smirking at him instead. “ _Quite_ ,” he says dryly. “Well, I’ll be sure to tell my stepdad how ‘ _quite_ _daring’_ you are.”

Her smirk falters. “You’re writing a letter? To the king?”

Callum nods at her, wide-eyed, unassuming, _innocent_. “He’ll be worried about us,” he says. “It’ll mean a lot to him to know why we left, and that we’re doing okay.”

He goes back to writing his letter with a smile, happy to finish it with her beside him, even as she grimaces and stares at her hands. She should tell him, she thinks. He deserves the truth. He has the right to know, and it should come from her. 

She _should_ tell him.

(She doesn’t.) 

  
  


iii.

The third time, it’s because she’s hurt, and heartbroken, and she doesn’t want him to know. She’s done a pretty good job so far of being brave; of keeping him safe and of leading him to believe that she _is_ fearless, and fast, and strong, and that the word _weakness_ is not part of her vocabulary. But her people have banished her because they think she’s a coward, and keeping up the facade is harder than she ever expected it to be.

She’s pretty sure she’s in love with him now. She hadn’t thought it possible to fall in love so quickly, but they’re here now, and he’s still got twigs stuck in his hair like horns— _antlers_ —and he’s looking at her like all he wants to do is make it better.

He _can’t_ make it better.

She’d failed her mission, and the others are— _Runaan_ is—dead because of her. He can’t fix that. In any case, it’s not his _job_ , and she can take care of herself. 

She doesn’t need his pity.

She doesn’t need his _help_. 

“Rayla,” he tries carefully, shaking the reigns of Runaan’s moonstrider with clumsy hands. It’d be funny any other day, but the thought of Runaan puts a lump in Rayla’s throat and she keeps her eyes downcast to keep the tears dammed up in her eyes. “Hey. It’s okay to be sad about it.”

“I’m not _sad_ about it,” she snaps. Her hands tighten stubbornly around the reigns of her mount, even as her voice breaks around the lie of it. “I told you to leave it.”

Callum purses his lips. “I’m just trying to help.”

“Well, _don’t_ ,” grumbles Rayla. “I’m _fine._ ”

(She’s not.)

  
  


iv.

The fourth time, it’s because she’s afraid. She’s had nightmares about losing him for weeks now, and despite the fact that they share a room; despite the fact she tells him everything else, she keeps this one last thing—this one last _fear_ —to herself. It’s not his job to protect her. It’s not his job to keep her safe.

They’re at the Moon Nexus and the sun is getting low. Last night was _long_. Rayla can still feel the hands of the dead clawing at her and the memory puts goose pimples in her skin and makes her shiver in the humid summer air. She’d thought for a moment that that might have been it. That she might have died then, and it would have been fine, probably, because it was just her, at least she hadn’t gotten anyone else killed, at least Callum was _safe_ —

And then he’d appeared, one hand clutched around a feather, the other scribbling runes in the air, and she _hadn’t_ died in the end, and neither had he but—

He’s come after her one too many times now, and that terrifies her. She’s already lost so much. She’s already gotten other people _killed_ , and the thought of losing _him_ too is—Rayla swallows.

Viren is out there still. He’s the reason her parents are gone. He’s the reason Runaan is likely dead. He’s the reason they’d had to carry Zym’s egg home in the first place and she’d thought, when she’d tackled him off the edge of the Pinnacle, that that might have been it. That she’d done her job. That she’d protected Zym and the last of the people of she loves, and that for _once_ she hadn’t screwed up, but he’s out there still, and if she loses anyone else to him—

She doesn’t want to think about it.

But Callum is stubborn. He grips her hand in his, his fingers vice-like, _binding_ , around her wrist. “I could have lost you,” he says. “We do this _together_. Don’t try changing my mind.”

And she doesn’t, because she knows better. Instead she smiles and grips his hand back. “Okay, Callum,” she mumbles. “We’ll go. Together.”

(They don’t.)

  
  


v.

The fifth time, it’s because she loves him. He finds her in a town near the border not even a month after she leaves, and her heart aches at the sight of him. His eyes are harder, angrier, and there’s a storm of emotion within them that makes her fold into herself in shame.

“You lied to me,” he says. His voice is so even it makes her sick. It’d hurt less if yelled but it's like he knows, somehow, that the heartbreak is worse.

“I wanted to keep you safe,” she mutters. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“It’s too late for that.” Callum glares at her. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen him so mad. Then something shifts in his posture, and it’s like something breaks. He starts forward. His voice cracks. “How could you _leave_ like that?” he demands. “ _How?_ I wanted to help you. I still do. _Please_ , Rayla, I just—”

“ _Stop it_ ,” she hisses, because it hurts and she’s a coward. “I didn’t mean to hurt you! This isn’t what I wanted, but you just—you keep _following_ me into danger, Callum, and I just want you _safe_ —”

“ _Safe?_ ” he snarls. “If you wanted me _safe_ , you would have stayed in Katolis! If you didn’t want me to follow, you never should have left! _Gods,_ Rayla, I—” He falters. Deflates. “It doesn’t even matter,” he whispers. “I don’t _care_ that you lied, or that you left. I just—I still love you. Do you still love me?”

Rayla hesitates. The truth sits in her mouth like salt, waiting, wanting, _begging_ to be said—but instead she looks away.

“No.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Me: yeah, if i get some time today, i'll write some fluff to ease the pain  
> Me: lmao


End file.
